Tuck my waist under some dark, steady hand
because so far tonight isn't enough.
You're sloppy drunk again,
speaking
in your dad's Spanglish,
smoking
some clove cigarettes,
lingeringly, like an old man.
and calling me
by different names of your old neighborhood friends.
When he leads, I’m certain to understand
because he lets me close enough.
You get further into every cup,
compelling
me to step out of the chaos;
you’re slumping
and whispering
the lyrics to “Ran Can Can”.
I stop dancing and wonder
if you can forget Cuba, and recall how to stand up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delilah, the subtle shift between strophes is clever, more than just suggested mood movement. Imagery is almost musical and aptly shaped to dance rythmns. A very enjoyable poem. Rgds, Ivan